


Marmalade

by mamafaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Bullies, Gen, Kid Sherlock Holmes, Kittens, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sherlock is a tiny hero, animal in danger, no animals are actually harmed in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24661870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamafaerie/pseuds/mamafaerie
Summary: Sherlock finds a lost kitten.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Marmalade

**Author's Note:**

> What if Sherlock had a kitten instead of a dog? I wanted to play with writing something fluffy and started writing this ages ago. Finally had a chance to finish it. 
> 
> Thanks Merinda ( @janto321) for betaing.

Sherlock came bounding out the back door to throw the rubbish away. His evening chores were hatefully boring, but Mycroft had to do the washing up tonight, which was much more tedious. Sherlock smiled to himself at that. He was marginally grateful, even if he didn’t let on.

When he clanged the lid down, he caught sight of it. The noise had made it jump and it let out a pitiful little _mew_ , but as it was caught between Sherlock, the bins, and the wall, it couldn’t really go anywhere. It mewed again.

“Where did you come from?” Sherlock said, bending down to pick up the little shivering ball of orange and white fur.

Glancing around, Sherlock didn’t see any other cats. This little one fit comfortably in his hands, but was old enough to have opened its eyes. Her eyes, actually, he noted. She was in good shape. A bit dirty, but seemed well fed. He judged that she was old enough to be away from her mother, but barely. And where were her litter mates? It would be rare to have a single kitten.

He looked around for paw prints, but the well-swept walk showed no trail. 

He wasn’t sure quite why the whim took him, but he tucked her under his shirt as he headed in the back door. He took the kitten to his bedroom then got her a little dish of water. Later, he’d sneak a piece of leftover chicken from the kitchen. 

When she was done lapping at the water, she curled up in his lap, purring. He had never really wanted a pet before, but he was starting to see the appeal. The soft sound, the warm weight in his lap, the soft fur, were all perfectly pleasant.

And so was having a secret. Something just his own. Mummy and Father hadn’t seen her yet. And Mycroft was at least pretending not to notice, which was rather nicer than he usually was, so that was fine.

He blinked down at her. Her fur was just the color the marmalade Mycroft had smeared thickly on his toast that morning. “Marmalade,” he whispered. Her ears pricked. It was a fun word to say. “Marmalade,” he repeated just a little louder and her ears pricked again and she purred, then climbed his shirt and nuzzled up under his chin . It tickled. He leaned down and whispered to her, “You aren’t really mine, so I can’t properly name you. Not really. But it doesn’t seem right to keep calling you ‘kitten’. Everyone needs a name.” 

He scratched behind her ears. “You like that, don’t you Marmalade?”

She purred in response.

After getting ready for bed, he found a book on cats under his pillow with a note that said, “I thought you might find this of interest. -M”

So he had noticed. Still, the fact that it was under his pillow not just on his bed as much as said ‘I know this is a secret and I’ll keep it for you.’

Sherlock smiled, grabbed his flashlight and began reading under the covers. 

When he finally drifted off to sleep, Marmalade curled up behind him, right in the small of his back, cozy as could be.

\---  
The following day was Saturday and off he went exploring, kitten tucked into his jacket. His family was used to him wandering on Saturdays and as long as he was home by lunchtime, no one would worry. “Perhaps we’ll find where you belong today,” he whispered to Marmalade.. Although he knew talking to a cat was silly, it still felt good and he decided that was reason enough, as long as no one was around to hear. And finding where she belonged would be a nice sort of mystery to unravel, (even if he was rapidly discovering that he’d rather not give her back.)

Just then he caught sight of them. A group of neighborhood boys in a tight knot at the mouth of the alleyway running behind his house. He was going to see whether he could find any clues he missed yesterday, but not with them there. _Stupid bullies._ He started to head back in toward the house, planning to head out the front door instead, to avoid them. When he heard another pitiful meow, he bravely moved forward instead.

At 13, Sean was the oldest, meanest kid of the neighborhood gang. Beside him, George held a hissing cat aloft upside down. Sherlock could see that its tail was as bushy as the special brushes his mum used to scrub out vases and narrow bottles. When Sherlock showed up, Sean was just declaring, “I found some firecrackers in my Da’s basement,” holding them with wicked gleam in his eyes for his group of the hooligans to see. “Maybe we can find that other tabby we were chasing yesterday, too.“

“I don’t know, the little ones run pretty fast.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed and his little face scrunched up in absolute fury. “Let her go!”

“Oh, look, it’s the littlest freak.” Sean taunted.

“Think you’re going to make us?” a portly boy aptly called “Teddy” for he rather had the look of a stuffed bear, if none of it’s cuddliness. Sherlock thought he’d rather try to nuzzle a patch of stinging nettles like he accidentally rolled into last week than him. 

For a moment no one moved and the boys likely thought their threat was enough to scare off a small child. Sherlock cocked his head slightly, listening before declaring with a small smile, “I don’t have to make you. You’re going to want to.” They merely looked perplexed for a moment before Officer Hammond came around the corner as Sherlock continued, “Perhaps if your nanny wasn’t having an affair with your father they’d have time to notice you or that you were nicking dangerous things from the basement. And if your brother wasn’t bloody awful at sport, he might not take it out on you. But whatever they’ve done is no excuse.” 

Turning to the other boys, Sherlock remarked, “Torturing an animal for fun is a sign that he will almost certainly grow up to be a murderer. I wouldn’t stay with him or it might be one of you he turns on first.”

“Keep that shite up and it’ll be you,” George muttered too low for Officer Hammond to hear the words, even if the intent was fairly obvious. Still, George set the cat down and eyed Sean warily as the group broke up. 

The silvery grey adolescent cat shot off taking cover behind the bins.

Officer Hammond confiscated the firecrackers and gave the other boys a stern warning, including that he’d call their parents if he ever found them up to anything of the sort again. He made sure that they were headed off separate directions, then turned to Sherlock. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Sherlock nodded, letting the little tabby peek out of his jacket for the first time.

“I can see you love animals. You were very brave to stand up to those boys.”

Sherlock let his mouth twitch just slightly into a shy smile. 

“Take care,” Officer Hammond said and started to saunter off. After a few steps he turned back. “You know, that grey seemed tame and well-fed…”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Sherlock promised.

He looked down at Marmalade squirming under his jacket. He approached the bins where he had seen the cat dart off and sat down. For a moment he was worried, since unfamiliar cats don’t usually like one another any more than he liked those neighborhood bullies, but he was willing to try. He sat down beside the bins with his back to the wall and let Marmalade out of his jacket. He stroked her fur and she butted her head against his hands and even licked at him with her sandpapery tongue, making him giggle. Soon, a little grey head poked out from behind the bins. 

Cautiously, the cat approached. It bumped its head against Marmalade, who returned the motion.

“You know each other, then?” Sherlock asked.

The grey gave Marmalade a long slow blink, then turned to Sherlock and did the same.

Sherlock smiled and slowly blinked back. The book Mycroft had left for him had indicated that there was no greater sign of trust among felines than closing their eyes in the presence of another creature. With boys like those bullies around Sherlock could understand that. He’d sleep with one eye open too if he thought they were nearby. 

The grey cat consented to be petted for a few moments before wandering off. Sherlock followed at a distance.

\----

After walking for quite some time, the cat sped up and Sherlock had to run to keep her in sight. It leapt lightly onto a porch. When Sherlock approached, he saw a basket of kittens and a large tabby mama lounging on the porch in a spot of sun.

As he walked up the stairs, Marmalade struggled in his jacket. He nuzzled her once, then set her down and she ran to greet her mother and other kittens.

Sherlock had never felt so happy and so sad at the same time. He knocked on the door. A woman with a kind face and an apron answered the door still drying her hands.

“I found your cat.” Sherlock said without preamble. 

“Oh?” The woman began, looking at the grey cat on the porch rail. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the little orange tabby.” Oh, thank you! We didn’t know where Orange Blossom had wandered off to! Would you like to come in?”

Sherlock shook his head. “Could I stay out here and visit with the cats for a bit?” Just then, he caught sight of a few golden ringlets as a little girl peeked out from a doorway inside. 

“Who’s there, mummy?”

“Look darling, this boy found Orange Blossom and brought her home.”

The girl shyly stepped out, breaking into a surprised smile. “How did you find her?”

Sherlock smiled back, just a little. “I just followed the older kitten.”

The mother indicated the silver cat Sherlock had followed who had now curled up on a wicker chair. “Moonlight goes wherever he wants.”

“He’s ours,” the little girl added, “but Papa says he can’t really be tamed.” 

Her mum laughed. “He’s from the last litter we found. Mama cats seem to really like the hollow beneath our privet over there. Moonlight here only likes to be indoors for a bit and, frankly, I think he may have other families in the neighborhood who think he’s theirs. He’s getting all sleek and happy.”

Sherlock settled on the floor by the basket. Marmalade/Orange Blossom crawled back out and settled on his lap while a little black one tried to climb his sleeve.

“They like you.” the girl said.and her mum added, “They do. In a couple weeks we’ll be looking for a home for them. You seem to care about them a lot.”

Sherlock looked up at her.

“If you bring a note from your parents, you can take one home.”

Sherlock looked down and stroked Marmalade’s fur. “Could I have Marmalade? I mean Orange Blossom.”

“You can call her what you like. The only one already going anywhere is Old Scratch climbing your shoulder there. Francie next door fell in love with him the moment she caught sight of them under the hedge.” 

Sherlock giggled as Old Scratch’s tail brushed his neck. “I’d like that.”

Eventually Sherlock made his way home, feeling a bit gloomy. And gloomier with ever step that took him away from the kittens. 

As he walked, it had sunk in that his parents had said no pets. It had only been a few months ago that he had asked. They didn’t think he was responsible enough, but he just knew he could take care of her. 

As he walked up, he could hear the hum of the lawnmower in the back. He looked around, but mum was still in her study and he didn’t see Mycroft, so he went to his room and flopped down on his bed, flipping through the book on cats wondering how he could make this work.

Mycroft knocked.

“Come in.” Sherlock said glumly.

Mycroft had a little dish of water in his hands.

Sherlock shook his head and Mycroft closed the door.

“Where is the little one?”

“I found her home,” Sherlock said with a half smile. “They said I could have her when she is really ready to be away from the litter.” He kicked at his blanket and tossed aside the book. “If I brought back a note that mum and dad will never give me,” he ended with a sigh.

Mycroft smiled. “Perhaps I can help.”

Luckily, a month later when the Holmes’ figured out there was a feline resident in their home, it was clear that the boys were responsible enough to keep a pet. Any anger at the deception was rather overshadowed by both the cleverness of the children, and the somewhat unusual comradery between them.

Of course, it helped that they were all completely smitten with Marmalade.


End file.
